Moments
by NyanWolf
Summary: Minho went in for revenge, and Newt went in for comfort. These are their POVs on the moment when Thomas was shot in the shoulder. (May become a two or three-shot) Thominewt friendship!
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! This is officially the longest single chapter I've done for this fandom! This was a request from fadingshadowss and I hope you all enjoy it! Newt's POV is down at the bottom and Minho's is up here!**

* * *

 **Minho**

I didn't know how, but I knew that in movies, when something terrible happens, time slows down. They were wrong. I blinked and Thomas went from being fine to spinning around and crumpling in a bloody heap on the ground.

A second was all it took.

One fast second where I could have done nothing.

My heart swelled and inflated in my ribs and the pressure made me want to explode. My legs twitched, then I was screaming and running straight at Blondie. My fist smashed into his nose as if through glass.

Then my body landed on top of him. I threw punch after punch, screaming at the shucking idiot who shot my best friend. My arms were a whirlwind of motion, missing and connecting and missing again. I felt crunching under my knuckles, and pushed deeper before punching again. Blondie had dropped his gun on firing and it was laying on the ground next to us.

He laughed as blood poured out of his eyes. Never again.

No one hurt Thomas.

NO!

ONE!

I threw my fists at him even faster and eyed the gun.

Don't let this shank win.

Show him what pain is.

Make him feel what Thomas is feeling.

I was straddling him now, and shoving my fists deep into his stomach. With a grunt I grabbed the gun and cocked it. He stopped laughing. My heart broke for Thomas.

Please let him be okay.

I'll avenge him.

I'll fire.

No one lays a finger on my friends.

My gun hand shook too much for me to aim and I put my other hand on top to steady myself. Blondie squirmed.

"Minho! Stop!" A few Gladers shouted at me. But there was too much blood rushing through—coursing through!—my veins.

We had lost too many people. All I had shucking wanted was a close to normal life! I thought we had that in the Glade. But then people started getting desperate. People started dying.

People started trying to die.

And now, I had seen enough blood to fill an ocean. My friends were gold and Blondie was trying to take that away from me. Nothing more. They weren't going to take anything more!

I just wanted to be happy. And now I was going to kill Blondie. I realized I was crying.

How many have you lost Minho?

Ben, Alby, Chuck, Winston, and now...and now maybe Thomas.

I trembled as I brought the gun up to rest right against Blondie's forehead. My finger found the trigger, slipped, and found it again.

For some reason I looked behind me to see the thing I had been trying to forget about. Thomas was still laying there. And his chest was just barely rising. His eyes were closed. Newt was crouched over him trying to stop the bleeding.

We locked eyes. He was crying too.

"Newt, help me," I mouthed, waiting for him to tell me to drop the weapon.

If he says stop, I will.

If he tells me to drop it, I will.

His face hardened with a fierceness I had never seen before. His eyes were red and fire roared just behind his pupils. Almost imperceptibly, he nodded. Then he averted his gaze.

I turned back to face Blondie and braced my body. I fired the gun. My whole body jumped with the force of the bullet pushing its way out the mouth of the weapon. Blondie's eyes glossed over and he slumped. I stood up numbly, and stared at him.

It was all I could do. Of all my talk, I had never actually killed anyone before. Blood poured from his head. Just another bucket in my ocean.

Thomas?

Did I kill Thomas?

Thomas wasn't blond.

But did I shoot him?

I couldn't comprehend anything. My mind accelerated without my body. I waited for the second where I would rubber band back into the moment. It never came and I stood numbly staring at my victim. Thomas? It was him, on the ground. With a hole in his head. Did I kill Thomas?

My body began to shake. An arm slipped around mine suddenly, gently pulling me away. I let it lead me like a sheep.

"Come on, Jorge thinks he can get the bullet out. You did good Minho. You did good," A voice kept repeating in my ear.

You did good.

You did good.

You did good.

I let myself drown in the soothing voice. Was the voice Thomas? Was he talking to me? I should answer, but how?

But when I looked up it wasn't Thomas, herding me away, it was Newt. He was struggling because my feet barely moved and he limped more obviously. Through his tears he smiled at me.

It was forced.

But I was grateful.

Thomas was dying. But I didn't have to be strong. I could just let Newt do it for me while I wallowed in heart-break.

I made a promise to myself that I would never let anyone touch Thomas or any or my friends ever again.

But for now, I was content to walk away from the world and ignore every feeling.

* * *

 **Newt**

My body tensed as Blondie raised the gun. I knew what was going to happen. Without thought I tried to run in front of Tommy.

A flashback of a twelve or thirteen year old boy struck me. This had happened before.

I stuck out my arms and went to jump. My bad leg gave out. With a cry of anguish, I buckled and a gooey hole appeared in Tommy's shoulder. He twisted and fell. A scream resounded through the streets.

Half of it was mine. The other half belonged to Minho, who was charging Blondie like a bull. I took the opposite approach and wobbly stood up again. With a smack to my leg, I was able to rush over to Tommy.

His eyes fluttered like butterfly wings. My lip quivered. Blood was pouring out from his wound, and staining his shirt.

I wish Clint and the Jeff were here.

How did they fix you Newt? Remember!

In a spur of motion I struggled to get free of my shirt. Someone else handed me their's before I even got an arm out. I brushed as much dirt as I could off the shirt and folded it to the cleanest part, but it was still brown and grimy.

"He shot me," Tommy whispered huskily.

"I know Tommy. It's okay. Just try to stay awake okay buddy?" I couldn't remember ever using a baby voice, but it felt like the natural thing for this situation.

My fingers trembled as I pressed the cloth down on his shoulder. He winced and whimpered in pain. My heart shattered.

"Shh, just listen to my voice Tommy. Can you do that for me?" I leaned in close so he would hear me. He nodded with fogged eyes that were like smudges of charcoal.

I was crying uncontrollably. The shirt was full his blood and I had to turn it over onto the dirtier side.

"Hey, Tommy? I'm going to tell you a story okay? Just stay awake for me. Just stay awake alright?"

"It hurts..." His voice broke.

"I know, I know. Listen, once upon a time there was a group of teenagers. They were all thrown into a giant glade, surrounded by a maze. At first, the boys were all very scared and they all thought they would bloody die or go crazy," I choked on a sob. Tommy's eyes fluttered and he moaned.

"Where's Minho?" His voice was barely audible. I looked behind me. Minho was staring at me from his position on top of Blondie. He was holding a gun.

"Newt, help me," He mouthed. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to tell him to stop being selfish because I had already given out all the help I could give. I was stretched so thin. Everyone seemed to constantly need my help all the time now. And right now Tommy needed it most. I nodded at Minho and turned back to Tommy.

"He's coming. Just listen," But Tommy's eyes were closed. I placed a hand over his face and brushed my fingers along his eyelids. He cracked them open a sliver.

"The...The boys were very, very scared. But after a little bit, everything got better. They were happy and lived together. And from then on," I winced when the gun-shot sounded. "They weren't scared anymore."

Tommy's eyes were closed and he was barely breathing. At that point I think I had been telling the story more for my benefit than his. Jorge was behind me.

"I think I can get that bullet out. With fire," He said. My stomach flopped over.

"Okay, okay. Just...not here," I said. The shirt hung uselessly in my hands. Tommy's blood cascaded over his sides. My hands were full of it. When he saw I wasn't moving Jorge called over a few Gladers to lift Tommy up. I watched them hoist his lifeless body onto their shoulders.

Jorge helped me stand and my leg almost collapsed again. It always acted up when I was scared, and pain twinged in my hip every step I took. I looked around for Minho. He was standing still next to a dead Blondie.

He was trembling and swaying. I went over to him and slipped my arm around his. His eyes were wide with terror.

"Minho? We have to go," I said, using the same voice I'd used with Tommy. He didn't seem to hear me.

"Come on, Jorge thinks he can get the bullet out. You did good Minho. You did good," This time his eyes flickered in recognition. I sobbed slightly and wrestled a smile onto my face.

It's always me.

It's always bloody me.

Cheering people up and helping people and lifting them up.

I was stressed and scared and broken inside. But everyone was always leaning on me for support.

My heart throbbed. Minho was a dead weight against my leg, but I said nothing.

You let them do this Newt. You let them lean on you.

But what can you do?

You're the glue.

* * *

 **And there it is! Please review and tell me if you want me to go on a little longer, I was thinking maybe until just after WICKED drops Thomas back off in the Scorch. But yeah, I hope you guys liked it!  
**

 **Wolf Out...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi! This is the next chapter and I'll probably have one more, final chapter. Happy Halloween!**

 **Reviews:**

 **The Curtis Crew: I checked out the Shooting, and like I said in my review, I really enjoyed it! It's so cool how two stories about the same thing can still be very different! That's what I love about Fanfiction!**

 **Taylormh98: Thanks a million! This is the second to last chapter!**

 **LunaKunaalna: Merci, profiter du chapitre!**

 **thegirlwiththerainboweyes: I'm glad you like the story! Also, cool username!**

 **Youya: Thanks! I love them too!**

 **JTWTriTMRtrilo: Thanks! And I've given up texting or speaking in Glader terms because my friends just look at me weird, but every now and then I just have to throw in a "shucking" or "shank."**

 **X-X-Midnight Star-X-X: Thanks! I'll be adding one more chapter after this one.**

 **fadingshadowss: You're welcome! I'm having fun with this story, so thanks for suggesting it.**

 **MinhoShuckinCool: Aw, I miss him too! But at least we'll see him again in the Fever Code. James Dashner should be done writing it in 2016.**

 **UtilitarianShank: Thanks!**

* * *

 **Minho**

We took Thomas to the remains of some kind of camp in the Scorch. We built it up to create a ceiling, and a few other Gladers built a fire for Jorge. I felt like I was wading through quicksand. It was so hard to walk forward.

But I felt like I owed Newt. He had never left Thomas' side. So I slowly, numbly made my way over to them. Jorge had a knife in his hand, red hot from the flames. Newt patted the ground next to him. I let myself collapse by him. I couldn't look at him though.

So I stared at the knife instead. I watched it glide into Thomas' shoulder and dig into his torn flesh. My stomach flipped over. Newt looked down. I kept watching. I owed it to Thomas to keep watching.

For a brief second, he opened his eyes.

"Thomas!" I breathed. But then he was screaming and convulsing as Jorge's knife kept going deeper.

"Keep him still! I've almost got it!" He yelled. Newt grabbed his legs and I held his arms. I heard the clink of blade hitting bullet. The knife twisted upward and a tiny metal capsule jumped out, covered in blood. Thomas' eyes rolled up in his head and he fell unconscious.

"We need more bandages," Newt whispered. His eyes looked haunted, and his hands slightly trembled. I still hadn't stopped shaking from...

"I'll get it," Jorge broke me out of my thoughts. I nodded gratefully. He walked further into our makeshift hut, and Newt busied himself trying to clean Thomas' shoulder with left over water from a canteen. There was a lot of sand inside the wound.

"I'm scared," I muttered. I didn't even realize what I had said, but I regretted it immediately. Newt looked at me wearily.

"That's good," He said. "It means you're human. It means you're alive."

I smiled.

"When did you get so deep?" I teased. His mouth twitched. I felt a little bit better.

"Same time you got so ugly mate," He grinned. Then we fell into silence, and our eyes drifted down to Thomas. I still felt sick. I could feel the warm gun in my hands. I could see the hole in Blondie's head.

But maybe I was getting better. Maybe Thomas would get up and be fine and he and Newt and I would all laugh and smile and talk.

I stood up as Jorge came back, and I walked off to where we had stashed a few blankets. It was getting dark, and cold.

I lay down and closed my eyes. Everything would change if Thomas died. Nothing would be the same. I wondered if I was being selfish. But I didn't think it would affect anyone as much as me.

Newt was a good leader, he could busy his mind with cheering everyone up like usual. I would be nothing. I would be a ghost. Tears began dripping into my mouth. My parched tongue licked up the salty droplets.

If Thomas left me I would die. If one more of my friends left me I would die.

My mind began to drift down a darker path.

I started thinking, what if it had been Newt? Which one would I prefer dead? I was horrified by my thoughts. But I kept weighing my options late into the night until I felt someone pull the blanket up to my chin.

I snuggled into the coarse, thin fabric. And I fell asleep.

The sounds of moaning woke me up. I jumped out of my blanket and was hit by the cold. It was still night.

I went to check on Thomas. I couldn't see much in the darkness, but there were still a few embers of fire left. His shoulder was a gruesome mix of yellow and green. It smelled like rot.

The moans continued, but they weren't from him. I scooted over to where Newt was sleeping. He was breathing heavily, and tossing and turning. I debated over waking him up.

No. He needs his sleep.

I decided to sit next to Thomas.

"Hey shank," I whispered.

There was no answer.

Of course not Minho, he can't talk to you. Go to sleep.

"It's me, Minho," I ignored my common sense and kept talking softly.

"Listen, I don't know if you can hear me or not. But, If you can, I...I killed Blondie," It felt like a massive weight had been lifted. I choked on tears.

"I don't know if I was right to, but I did. I avenged you. So, I hope you're okay with that. I don't even know what I'm shucking doing. I'm sitting here talking to you like you're going to answer me. But, it's kind of nice I guess. To have someone just listen.

"I really want you to wake up. We all do. I think, you're getting worse. But you can't just leave me. You are one of my best friends. You and Newt are like how Chuck was to you. You two are my brothers. And I really need you to stay alive," I sighed.

Thomas didn't respond. I shook my head ruefully. Then I walked back to my sleeping area and lay there with my eyes open for a long time.

* * *

 **Newt**

Our little desert hut was nothing but a scavenged ceiling held up by four poles. But it worked. I sat in the shade of approaching evening with Tommy. Jorge was heating up his knife.

I stared at my friend with a dull ache in my chest. I wanted two things. Tommy to be okay. And some bloody rest.

"Hey Newt, how do you think he's doing?" A Glader named John asked me.

"Not great."

"Oh. Do you think he'll wake up?"

"Not tonight. But hopefully tomorrow. Don't worry about him. He wouldn't like people fussing over him," I said. John left. Another Glader hovered over me, asking the same questions.

"Being scared is natural. Don't worry," I said robotically. He thanked me and left. They kept coming. I kept answering as shortly as possible. Finally Minho sat down next to me.

He was looking a little bit better. That was good. I probably looked like klunk. He looked like he was trying not to look at me. Something inside me longed to make him feel better.

I wanted everyone to stop worrying so that I could have all the worry to myself. I just felt like it wasn't possible for them to be even more terrified than I was, so it was stupid for them to even try.

A scream rippled through the air. I hadn't even noticed Jorge bringing the knife down. Blood rushed to my head and my heart jumped in my throat. I dived onto Tommy's legs and held on with a death grip. Minho did the same with his arms.

The screams kept coming. It was excruciating, but I held on. The knife wiggled around in the wound, spraying fat drops of blood onto my hands and neck. Tommy passed out as the bullet emerged from his flesh.

I wanted to throw up. Even Jorge looked shaken. Minho and I released Tommy. Then we stared at him. It was surreal. I couldn't discern if those inhuman wails ad been real or not. I couldn't tell if I had imagined them.

I was on autopilot.

"We need more bandages," My voice sounded small to my ears. Jorge got up to get them. Minho looked at me oddly. I wanted so badly to break down. But I had to be there for everyone.

"I'm scared," He said suddenly. I had never wanted to hear those words come out of Minho's mouth. I knew then that Tommy had to recover or Minho might not ever be the bloody same. He was fearless. Always had been. And he never, _ever_ announced any feelings of weakness.

"That's good," I said, like I had said to everyone who voiced their fear. "It means your human. It means your alive." I prayed for a sarcastic remark. Any indication that he was still the same Minho.

"When did you get so deep?" He rolled his eyes. I breathed a sigh of relief. I felt cold and hurt all over. But I forced my mouth to form words.

"Same time you got so ugly mate," I answered. He smiled and I stared at Tommy. Conversation fell. It felt like even the simplest actions, like talking, had become unbearable.

I didn't know how much time passed before he walked off and Jorge returned. He handed me the cleanest shirt he could find. I poured hot water from an old canteen over Tommy's shoulder. I wasn't a med jack, but I was trying.

I tried to wrap the wound, but the shirt kept mixing with the sand and blood and dirt. I decided to just let the wound air out. I sat there for a long time. My eyelids closed a few times, but each time I was jarred awake by the ghost sounds of Tommy's screams.

I ran a hand over Tommy's face and the heat shocked my senses. He had a fever now. Probably from infection or something. Eventually it became too cold, and I stood. I didn't want to cover him up, in case his temperature worsened, so I just left him.

Deep in the hut I covered all the sleeping bodies up with blankets and watched over them for a while. Then I found my own little corner and the only blanket left. It was short and holey and ragged. But I was glad that at least the others were mostly warm.

I fell asleep almost immediately.

I am in a warm, deep, blackness. A monster of darkness is wrapped around me like a cape. I'm trying to get it off, but it squeezes tighter. It's tentacles caress my cheek. It's so hot. It's too hot. The monster's touch is fiery, but it makes my stomach recoil with frost.

I can't see its mouth, but I feel it kissing my ear and whispering.

 _You are worthless. You are helpless. You are scared. And you are selfish._

I want to block it out but I am wrapped in its mass. It is a wall of black around me. It is a prison. My worry, my fear, my monster.

 _You are nothing. You are alone. You are friendless. And you are selfish._

I am screaming, but it is muffled. All sound is muffled. I feel like I'm underwater. I can't breathe! Its smothering me!

 _You are stupid. You are carless. You are broken. And you are selfish._

My eyes snapped open. It was dark still, and I was trembling. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep again. My body was exhausted but my mind was wide awake.

I heard a voice. Soft and uncertain. With as little noise as possible, I turned. Minho huddled by Tommy. He was talking to him. I listened, and his words soothed me. I smiled at his mentioning of me as his brother.

I closed my eyes and floated in his words, saddened and intrigued by them. Then he was finished and he was back in his blanket. I knew he wasn't asleep. I wondered if he knew I wasn't either.

We spent the night there, wrapped in our thoughts. Just two hopeful, insignificant people. Just two little humans, waiting in the night to face the horrors of dawn.

* * *

 **Thanks to everyone who favorite, followed, or reviewed! You guys are awesome! Who's excited for the Fever Code? I am! Especially because the prologue might be in Newt's POV!**

 **Wolf Out...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Aw! Here it is! The final chapter! I was debating splitting this into two chapters, but I decided to just make one extra long one! So enjoy!**

 **Reviews:**

 **thegirlwiththerainboweyes: I'm glad I as able to get a reaction! This chapter isn't sad. Mostly!**

 **huskyhercules: Thank you so much! I'm super happy you like the story! This stemmed from one of my reviewers asking if I knew of any stories about this particular moment. And I realized just how few of them there are on this site. So I made one of my own. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Daladakea: Thanks! I've read some of your work, No way out, and Second Chance, and some of your USM stuff, so I can say you write beautifully too! The Fever Code is the sequel to the Kill Order, so it's just like a continued prequel of the actual Maze Runner. Also, thank you, I'm super relieved they're in-character!**

 **The Maze Writer: I see you've taken my suggestion on the name, awesome! And thanks! Enjoy the chapter!**

 **fadingshadowss:** **Thanks! I'm glad you like it! And no problem, I love taking story suggestions! And like I've said, I'm having a lot of fun with this story!**

* * *

 **Minho**

The Berg came in the morning. I must have fallen asleep some time because I woke up first and walked out to check on Thomas. His eyelids were fluttering and his skin was a pasty, sweaty white. His whole arm reeked of infection. It was too late to bandage it now.

I wondered if we would need to... _amputate._

But then his nub would probably get infected too.

I shook my head and stared dully at my friend. _Please wake up._

I felt as if my heart was in two pieces, bound together by a piece of twine. And now the string was beginning to tarnish and break and snap.

My stomach rumbled. I couldn't remember the last time I'd eaten. But I knew I wouldn't be able to get anything down right now. I swallowed spit to trick my aching abdomen and tried to stifle my oncoming tears.

Thomas' eye opened, revealing the milky pupil scrambling to focus on anything. I jumped and then leaned forward.

"Thomas! Thomas! Can you hear me! You're going to be okay, don't worry," I rambled quickly. The closed again. I fell silent.

"Thomas...?" I squeaked.

I had that empty feeling inside that comes just after crying. I wrung my hands together. The heat of day was just starting to come back. The others would be awake soon. That's when I saw it.

A black circular object against the cloudless blue sky. The sand underneath was rising in a cloud of yellow dust. It wasn't close enough for me to hear it yet, but I knew exactly what it was. I ran inside the hut and found Newt.

He must have already been waking up because I barely even had to touch him for his eyes to snap open.

"What-" He started.

"We have a problem," I said quickly. His eyes narrowed in recognition. Newt jumped out of the blanket and ran past me. He practically dived next to Thomas. I smiled sadly.

If I closed my eyes I could pretend that we were all in the Glade. And Thomas was just sleeping.

But pretending wasted time, and we didn't have a whole lot of that right now. I walked over to Newt. My legs were too tired to run, so I let them slosh through the sand slowly. He was kneeled over Thomas' frame. His eyes were red and he kept trying to shift his weight off of his leg. He looked like klunk.

"He's dying," Newt said simply. His bluntness shocked and hurt me. I was supposed to be the direct one, and he was supposed to dance around things to help us all shucking feel better. It angered me slightly, his lack of faith.

It angered me that he would say something like that; something we all knew but were trying to deny!

The sound of engines whirring brought me back to the present.

"Yeah well, that's not the problem I was talking about," I said. I pointed upward and he looked. The Berg was much closer now, and lower.

The wave of sand was almost on top of us. Some of it was already getting into Thomas' shoulder.

"We need to get him away from here," I said. Newt nodded. We folded our hands under him. He was sweating rivers. My hands were soaked in blood and pus and sweat and none of it was mine. But still, we lifted.

"Put him down!" A voice from the sky startled us. The Berg was right above us, and descending quickly.

"What are they bloody doing?" Newt yelled. I could barely hear him over the engines.

The sand was everywhere. I lost Newt. I could barely even see Thomas. I stumbled backwards, trying to get away from that sound. I choked on dry dust, caking in my throat and nose. The granules crunched under my teeth.

My eyes burned. I shut them but the sand still found a way inside. I fell and curled up in a ball. The cuts on my hands stung. I tucked my head as far into my shirt as I could manage and tried not to breathe too deeply.

Thomas.

Where was he?

Was he okay?

He had probably suffocated by now. What was wrong with me? Leaving him there alone! I lifted my head and tried to open my eyes. The world was a haze of yellow.

My eyes closed on their own. Weighed down by muck. I screamed.

"Thomas!" I sucked in dry, burning sand. It tickled my lungs and stuck to my teeth. I felt it everywhere. "Thomas!"

I coughed. Tears squeezed from my eyes. The dust cleared. The engine roar faded from my eardrums. My hands clawed at my eyes until I could see. There was nothing.

The hut still stood, and a dozen scared eyes looked out at me. But Thomas was gone. I tried to stand up and found myself unable to. The sand sucked at my body. I screamed, and slapped at the sand around me. I was mad. At nothing.

Strong hands pulled me up. I glance behind me.

Newt and Jorge.

I tore away from their grasp. I was supposed to be the tough one! Not the damsel in distress! Not the broken little wimp! But I couldn't seem to be able to be that Minho. Not without Thomas.

But Thomas was gone.

We shuffled back into the hut and Jorge sat me down on the floor.

I crawled back out to throw up sand. I hacked and coughed for a while.

Newt sat in the corner with his head lolling back and his eyes half-shut. I crawled to him.

"What happened?" I asked. He didn't answer for a good thirty seconds, where I thought he'd fallen asleep.

"They took him. In the Berg. They said they'll return him to us by tomorrow, that they're going to heal him," His voice was slurred. He blinked slowly.

I placed a hand on his shoulder and noticed it was slightly warmer than it should have been.

"Are you okay Newt?"

He smiled. Nodded.

"You should sleep," I said.

"You too," He sighed. We sat in silence, both absorbing what had just happened. Thomas was going to okay. They were going to save him.

I slept easier that night. And when I cracked open my eyes Newt was shaking me.

"He's back you shank, get up!" He whispered. I stood up and together, we walked outside. Thomas was sitting up, blinking away his sleep. I tackled him.

"Hey Minho," He coughed. My cheeks hurt from smiling. Then I realized what I was doing and stepped away. I kicked his knee.

"What the-"

"You ugly shuck-faced piece of crap! You scared the klunk out of me! I thought you were going to freaking die! If you ever do that to me again, I will kill you myself!" I yelled. Tears shined in the corner of my eyes, and laughter tugged at the corner of my lip. Thomas grinned.

"Nice to know you care," He laughed. I frowned, but it turned into laughter too.

"I hate you, you know that right?" I said. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. My whole body trembled. I never wanted Thomas out of my sight again.

"Nice to know you're alive, Tommy," Newt's voice sounded behind us. Thomas smiled. Then he looked at both of us and stared.

"You both look like klunk."

* * *

 **Newt**

I hadn't slept the whole night. My eyelids closed on their own, but sleep would not come. I heard someone walking around, and figured it was Minho. He was always checking on Tommy.

I didn't have the stomach to.

I knew his arm was getting worse. He was getting worse. We were all trying to deny it. We were all imagining the outcome of him being okay, rather than imagining how to achieve that.

Tommy was going to die. He was going to just bloody die and leave us alone without a clue of what to shucking do with ourselves. I realized I was trembling.

I tried to force my thoughts to calm down, to stop thinking at all. I let myself just float in darkness. But my mind buzzed with possible endings for our story. And they all involved Tommy breathing his last breath in front of me. My brow furrowed. I snuggled deeper into my blanket even though I was burning.

But the heat soothed me. I drifted in the hot blackness and tried to picture Tommy. There, on the ground. Eyes opening and him smiling and standing up good as new. I tried to pretend.

Pretending didn't work.

I got bored of the darkness and tried to open my eyes. Light blinded me and I couldn't really focus on anything for long before my eyelids closed again. It was involuntary, as if someone had placed a weight on them.

But I was too exhausted to care.

"Thomas! Thomas! Can you hear me?" Minho's voice yelled. My brain told my body to lift my head. I stayed the way I was. Tommy had probably twitched or something, an Minho was getting all hopeful about it.

It seemed that Minho jumped at every little thing now. He was changing. All of us were changing. But for better or for worse, I didn't bloody know.

I felt hands start to shake me and forced my eyes to open. Minho stood over me, blocking the excruciating light. I struggled to focus.

His eyes were wild and huge, like a terrified animal. And his voice was laced with unstableness.

"We have a problem."

My body finally kicked into gear spurred on by adrenaline. It was happening now. Tommy was saying his last words and dying. I needed to see him die.

I clawed my way out of the blanket and ran to Tommy's side. He looked no different, but his arm was rotted and foul. I relaxed only slightly. It wasn't happening yet. But soon.

"He's dying," I said. My voice sounded robotic to my own ears. Minho looked like I'd slapped him, and I immediately regretted my words. Pain visibly swelled in his eyes. He was much more transparent now. I could see his every emotion. Like a little kid.

I looked down in shame. We both knew that Tommy was the real leader. Minho was tough and impulsive, but that wasn't even half of what it took to lead. Tommy was a listener as much as he was a decider, and there was something about him that made people listen.

Maybe it was confidence, or bravery. I thought it was more along the lines of reckless insanity. But whatever it was I admired it.

I glanced back at Minho, who was scowling at me.

"Yeah well, that's not the problem I was talking about," He growled. He jabbed his finger up into the air. I looked.

A berg was flying towards us. A flicker or anger sparked in my heart. They were here? Now?

Of all the bloody times they had to come and take us away they would come now!

The buzz of engines was just beginning to approach. I felt utterly hopeless. I just wanted to cry and scream at the same time. I wanted to lose it.

But that wasn't my role.

So instead I locked my fingers under Tommy's light body. My arms hurt. My back hurt. I had to fight to keep my eyes open. But I still kept my bugging head. Minho swayed slightly.

The berg was almost directly on top of us now.

"We need to get him away from here!" Minho yelled. I nodded to show I had the same thought. He dropped down and hooked his own hands under Tommy. His eyes widened when he made contact with Tommy's squelching flesh.

For a second I thought he might faint. Then he took a breath and lifted. I did the same.

"Put him down!" A voice from the berg screamed at us. The propellers were kicking up a whirlwind of sand.

"What are they bloody doing?" I screamed over the engines.

It felt like a fist made of sand was shoved down my throat. I lost Minho in the yellow dust. I dropped down next to Tommy and tried to cover my ears. The air was made of stinging grains.

I breathed it and felt it dance in my ribs and lungs. It scraped my throat. It traveled up my nose and added to my headache. I shut my eyes. Where was Minho?

I heard him screaming something.

A name.

Thomas.

I wanted to comfort him. I needed to be there. I opened my eyes.

White slashes danced across my vision. I could still hear Minho.

"Thomas!" He screamed.

I think I passed out for a second because suddenly I was inside the hut. Jorge was getting everyone under blankets. I stood up and tried to run back out. He yelled at me. I kept going, stumbling through the sandstorm.

I saw Minho. He was shaking, and screaming slurred nonsense. I don't even think he realized what he was doing. His fists pounded the ground blindly. He was breaking down, right there in front of me. It was almost as terrifying as Thomas getting shot.

Jorge emerged behind me. The sand was mostly gone now. We grabbed Minho and tried to drag him towards the hut. He fought us and I left Jorge to deal with him. I was worried about him.

Tommy was tearing him apart. I shuffled into the hut and some of the Gladers assured me that WICKED had taken Tommy to fix him. Rubbish. They probably just wanted to run more tests before he died.

I collapsed in a corner and thought about what to tell Minho. I drifted in the place between sleep and consciousness. I was done. I needed sleep and maybe food. But I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to eat.

Minho plopped down near me. He looked like a child. His face was contorted into an expression of aguish and concern. Probably for Tommy.

"What happened?" He asked quietly. I told him what the others told me. I think he believed me too. We spoke some more. But I couldn't pay much attention. Minho thought they were going to save him.

What was wrong with us?

My eyes finally closed that night when I passed out in my blanket. It was black and thick and dreamless. Eventually I opened my eyes and blinked in confusion, momentarily forgetting where I was.

I didn't even remember falling asleep.

But the sound of a receding engine made me sit up. Head slightly spinning, I walked outside. Tommy lay there, blinking. I froze.

You're supposed to be dead.

My entire world that I'd built up over the past three or so days, had just fallen. Tommy was alive. His arm was neatly bandaged and he was moving it up and down experimentally.

He was awake. He was breathing. Guilt tied my stomach in knots. I had given up all hope. In my mind, Tommy had already been long dead. And now here he was.

I still hadn't moved. He was staring at me.

"Newt?"

My mouth opened and closed.

You're dead!

"To...Tommy?" I squeaked. He smiled weakly. I nodded and spun around stiffly. I retreated back into the hut and started shaking Minho. He woke up quickly.

"He's back you shank, get up!" I hissed. I watched the wheels turn in his head until his eyes widened in recognition. I followed him back outside. As soon as Minho saw Tommy, he hugged him and started yelling at him.

I envied that he was able to do that. I listened to their reunion for a while.

"Nice to see you're alive, Tommy," I said softly. He waved me over and I awkwardly joined their little group. I was so sure that he would drop dead at any moment. Any gust of wind could push him over and he'd be dead.

It was just so fast. One minute he was in a bloody coma. And now he was laughing and kidding around like he hadn't been shot with a shucking gun! He stared at us both.

"You both look like klunk."

That was it. The walls came down. I snorted, than laughed along with Minho.

"Yeah and it's all your bloody fault!" I breathed. He looked bewildered.

"Did you guys even sleep while I was out? You look like insomniac raccoons," He smirked.

"And you, aren't funny," Minho said. I smiled. Tommy didn't need to know what Minho and I had gone through. That would just make him feel bad. And I just wanted to put everything behind me.

I turned back to see the other Gladers all staring and whispering. I grinned at Tommy.

"Come on shank. Your adoring public probably wants an interview." We stood up and walked inside.

* * *

 **Thomas**

Minho and Newt both looked horrible. They had matching bags under their eyes, and their hair looked like bird nests. I could see fear every time they looked at me, as if scared that they might lose me again.

Minho trembled slightly, and his voice was not nearly as confident as before. His smiles were less sure. And he seemed like, at any moment, he was going to run away. But he was already healing.

Newt stared at me as if I was a puzzle that he couldn't figure out. He looked at me like he was sorry for something. And whenever he stood up, he swayed slightly, as if about to faint at any moment.

I didn't know what had happened to my friends. I didn't know if they would ever go back to being their old selves. I didn't know if Minho would ever again be the egotistical, tough leader, who never panicked. Or if Newt would ever again be the laid-back, sensible shank who was always hopeful for the sake of others.

I hoped so.

But some times, things change. People change. Relationships change. Our lives were like that ever-shifting maze. And maybe, like the maze, there was a solution hidden in plain sight.

But either way, I was going to heal my friends. And if they weren't the exact same, so be it. I knew they might not want to talk about it now, but I was going to find out exactly what they went through.

And together, we would get through everything WICKED threw at us. We would always be there for each other. And fight our every inner war, together. Friends grieve.

Best friends suffer.

* * *

 **The End! I hope you guys enjoyed the story, and please review what you think! Sorry for the slow update, but this chapter took forever to write!**

 **Wolf Out...**


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